Sisterhood of Dune (71 page)

Vor didn’t waste his breath calling back to them. He pulled as far ahead as possible—but it wasn’t enough, and they were gaining on him. Halfway to the nearest rocky protrusion, he decided it was time to take his greatest risk, hoping he had enough time to reach the rocks.

When he activated the personal shield, it issued a faint, vibrating crackle. Static electricity seemed to charge the dust around him. He unclipped the shield belt, left the power supply activated, and dropped the belt onto the sand. He ran with even more frantic energy toward the small rock island, unearthing reserves of strength within himself that he didn’t know he had. Vor was sure that his rhythmic footfalls had already sent an irresistible summons to a sandworm. Now, with the throbbing shield belt, there should be no question.…

The twins continued after him across the dunes, following his footprints as he had hoped. Andros called out in his piercing voice, “Look at you running like a coward! You are an embarrassment to Agamemnon.”

Vor’s throat burned and his eyes stung, but when he reached the top of a dune, he saw that he had almost made it to the solid outcropping. Like an iceberg, the rock’s roots grew larger beneath the surface. A few more steps, and he felt rock beneath the sand. He pulled himself higher, panting, and then turned to watch.

Andros and Hyla reached the shield belt he had thrown away. They knew they were closing in, and that Vor had nowhere to go beyond his small rock island. The two were so intent on him that they didn’t seem to notice the vibrations in the sand, or the large mounded ripple rushing toward them.

But Hyla hesitated, sensing something, while Andros picked up the shield belt with a sour frown. He tossed the device over his shoulder—just as a sandworm lunged up from beneath the dunes, its maw open. Scooping hundreds of cubic meters of sand, the creature rose so high that the children of Agamemnon looked like tiny specks falling down a whirlpool.

The worm swallowed them.

Vor squatted down to watch the sandworm circling the area. Though he was all alone, without supplies, abandoned in the middle of the desert, he felt safe for the first time in a long while.…

At last he had time to reflect on the trouble he had caused on Arrakis, even though he had only meant to live here in peace. He thought of the people he had recently lost: Ishanti, who had treated him well, and Griffin Harkonnen, an unintended enemy, who might have understood and even forgiven Vorian. And he thought of Mariella.

Over the centuries he had grieved for many losses, but now he was saddened by the waste of these three lives. The Harkonnens had hated him for generations since the exile of Abulurd, and he had hoped to achieve some sort of resolution. But once the family learned what had happened to Griffin, he doubted the breach would ever be healed.

Sitting on the lonely rock, Vorian felt centuries-tired, and wished he could just find a place where he didn’t have to keep looking over his shoulder. He watched as the worm eventually buried itself in the sand and went away, but he decided to rest awhile before making his way back to the weather-monitoring station and the aircraft that could take him away from here once and for all.

Most public events sponsored by governments are for show. Savvy leaders understand that perceptions are the foundation of their power.

—Imperial study of government practices

The edict issued by Emperor Salvador Corrino allowed the disbanded Sisters of Rossak only a few days to vacate their planet and forsake the school that Reverend Mother Raquella had built over the past eight decades. He stationed Imperial forces to ensure that his orders were carried out, while he returned to Salusa Secundus with Dorotea and a hundred members of her faction. Raquella was not given the opportunity to say goodbye to her granddaughter, or Sister Valya, or anyone else.

Everyone in the Sisterhood was to be dispersed, old and young alike. Only a handful of Sisters with important connections could decide where they wanted to go, but most were sent back to the worlds where they had lived before going to Rossak.

*   *   *

BEING THE EMPEROR’S
brother did not entitle Roderick Corrino to a life of luxurious relaxation. On the day after the Imperial forces returned from Rossak, he longed to sleep late and relax in his bed with Haditha, and enjoy breakfast with her and their children. But the Imperium called.

He hadn’t slept well, haunted by Salvador’s impetuous execution of the Sisterhood’s Mentats, and the disbanding of the Rossak School. Roderick had a great deal of damage to mitigate. He hoped Sister Dorotea might provide an insightful perspective and be willing to work with him. Roderick continued to believe the trained Sisters had considerable value, and he was glad he’d convinced his brother to spare Dorotea’s faction at least. Better to save something than nothing at all.…

Roderick had done what he could to salvage the situation. Using funds from Sisterhood bank accounts that the Emperor had confiscated, Sister Dorotea and a hundred of her handpicked followers were busy setting up a new training facility for their order on Salusa Secundus. There would be no breeding program or
Azhar Book,
and no other publications or programs that had not first been approved by representatives of the Imperial government.

Sister Dorotea would bear close watching, but Roderick had always found her valuable. She still had to sort out her personal ambitions from her expressed loyalties to the Emperor; Roderick needed to determine where they overlapped and where they might conflict.…

As he went about his morning ablutions, preoccupied but as quiet as possible, Roderick considered the numerous critical events he would have to balance. Though his brother had the title and glory of being Emperor, Roderick spent more time implementing policy and ensuring that the government functioned smoothly, despite some of Salvador’s rash and ill-advised decisions.

Too much had been done, in his opinion, to appease Manford Torondo and his rabble-rousing followers—not because Salvador believed in their extremist views, but because they wielded enough power to bully him. Salvador’s brash actions against the Sisterhood were clearly an attempt to take the initiative away from Manford, but it had not gone well. Roderick didn’t deny that antitechnology extremists could cause a great deal of civil unrest, but he was more worried that his brother had made many pronouncements without first consulting him.

For most of their lives, Salvador had used him as a sounding board, for help with important decisions. Roderick wondered what had changed. He sensed a withdrawal on his brother’s part, a desperation and a will to survive. Maybe he felt he was losing control of his Imperium. But Salvador was his brother and the rightful Emperor, and Roderick had his own duties.

He needed to reassert his influence over Salvador and be a voice of reason, before his brother turned into a tyrant. During the CET riots and Emperor Jules’s bloodbath against the delegates seeking sanctuary at the Palace, they had all seen the price to be paid for allowing emotions and paranoia to run unchecked, but Salvador was not much of a student of history.…

Ready for the day, though it was not yet dawn over the city of Zimia, Roderick emerged from his private wing and walked down the corridor to the Emperor’s private administration offices. He was surprised to find Salvador already waiting for him. Grinning, the Emperor said, “Hurry, come along with me. I’ve got good news to show you!”

Roderick fell into step beside his brother. “These days, we both could use a bit of that.”

Like an excited boy squirming to keep a secret, Salvador refused to tell him what to expect as they rode in a fast carriage to the large central plaza of the capital city, in the midst of imposing government buildings. There, Imperial guards were already at work cordoning off the area, keeping crowds of early-rising onlookers from getting closer. Escorted by gold-uniformed troops, the two Corrinos made their way through the people. Roderick smelled an odd, burning odor that irritated his nose.

With a stomach-wrenching sense of déjà vu, he stopped to stare at a burned and horribly mutilated body hanging from a lamppost; a thick cable was still twisted around the neck. The extremities had been cut off, the face smashed into unrecognizability, the skin and hair burned.

Salvador tugged at his brother’s arm, not seeming at all upset. “Come, come! You’re going to
love
this!” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “It solves several problems at the same time.”

Though he didn’t like any part of what he saw, Roderick went forward cautiously, trying not to inhale the stink of roasted flesh. The placard placed near the mutilated body said in a childish scrawl, “The Traitor Bomoko.”

“Not another one,” Roderick groaned. “I wonder which poor innocent the mobs lynched this time.”

His brother did a poor job of hiding his grin. “How do you know it isn’t the real Bomoko?”

“After all these years, and all the misidentified victims? I highly doubt it.”

Salvador leaned close to whisper, though the hubbub of guards and onlookers drowned out all normal conversation. “It’s no innocent this time, Brother. Wouldn’t you agree that this is a useful way to dispose of Dr. Zhoma? Two birds with one stone.”

Roderick’s head snapped back but he stopped himself from responding aloud.

Strutting officiously in front of a gathering crowd, Salvador raised his voice, sounding imperious, making sure people nearby could hear him. “We must take this seriously, Brother! Perform genetic tests and determine if we have at last found the real traitor, Toure Bomoko! It would be good to put this long nightmare to rest! I want you to supervise this matter personally.”

Salvador’s angry expression was quite convincing even as he whispered out of the side of his mouth, “And I think you know what results I want.”

Roderick kept his own expression studiously grim, though he felt great alarm inside. “No one will believe it, Salvador. It’s not even a matter of genetic testing—the clumsiest autopsy will show that this is a female, not a male. It can’t possibly be Bomoko.”

The Emperor remained unperturbed. “Oh, you can take care of that. I have confidence in you. Issue a thorough-looking report, and I’ll give it my stamp of approval. Cremate the body and remove any other evidence. Problem solved! Zhoma has received the justice she deserved, and the mobs can stop looking for their bogeyman.”

Roderick knew the infamous CET leader was probably dead somewhere on a distant planet, or at least hiding from the small-minded selfishness of Imperial politics. Roderick would have liked to be far from the pettiness, but he could not shirk his responsibilities. A Corrino did not hide.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take charge of this mess.”

Salvador was so pleased that he patted his brother on the back. “I can always depend on you. We’re such an excellent team, you and I.”

*   *   *

THE ASSIGNMENT PROVED
to be, in fact, simple enough. It was a far more difficult challenge for Roderick to see his sister and decide what to do with her.

He found Anna wading in a shallow water garden with Lady Orenna, picking colorful floating flowers and putting them in a basket. Standing together in the water, the two women looked like children, and Roderick smiled at them. It was a pleasant contrast to the gruesome spectacle earlier in the day. The silver-haired Orenna, normally quite elegant, wore a simple dress that was drenched from the pool; Anna wore shorts and a dirt-stained blouse. She seemed happy.

Watching from the edge of the pool, Roderick said, “You’re looking better today, Anna. A good night’s rest?”

“Flowers for my mind.” With a sweet smile, she held up a beautiful yellow flower with delicate, fringed petals. “Genus
Limnanthemum nymphoides,
more commonly known as the floating heart. It is a heart for my mind.” In her basket, she pointed to a white-and-black flower with greenish-purple leaves. “Genus
A. distachyus.
It smells like vanilla and is edible. Would you like a taste?”

“No thank you.” His stomach remained unsettled from the doctor’s mutilated corpse he had recently disposed of.

His sister’s voice rattled on. “I can identify every plant in this pond, and every plant in the Imperial gardens. I know other things, too. The chemistry of the dirt, the origins of the rocks, the scientific names of all the birds and insects. These gardens contain many ecosystems—until now, I never saw all the wondrous interactions taking place.”

Without pausing for a breath, Anna began a scholarly dissertation on the garden, but became distracted when a waterfowl with brilliant emerald plumage flitted by, which prompted her to provide exhaustive details about the region of Salusa Secundus where it nested, and its migratory patterns. Then she began describing planets and star systems where similar birds were found, and soon she was off that topic entirely, talking about the chemistry of cements, mortars, bricks, and other building materials, which somehow led to the mathematics of music.

Lady Orenna stepped from the pond, wiped off her feet with a cloth, and said in a low tone, “I’m very concerned about her.”

Anna continued to ramble as Roderick answered, “Does she still hear the strange voices inside?”

Orenna nodded. “She collapsed just before we came here. Simply overwhelmed. These flowers seem to be calming her down, though.” The older woman sat on a small bench and put her shoes back on. “Her mind may be damaged; it’s overactive, filled with unsorted information that spews out at random. If she could control it and organize it, maybe our dear Anna’s awareness would return.”

“She’s always been smarter than we allowed,” Roderick said. “And now, we have to do everything possible to give her the help she needs.”

“The Suk School is in disarray—we dare not entrust her delicate mind to their psychologists.”

He nodded in agreement. “No, I can think of only one place that might be able to understand her condition—the Mentat School on Lampadas. They know more about the human mind than anyone. I’ll suggest it to Salvador, and I think he’ll agree.”